Doctor meet Dr meet Holmes
by Scarlett De Fontaine
Summary: Welcome to my little experiment. I will place three of the greatest minds in TV and literature into one place and see what happens. They think their there to help me, but what will really happen? Prequel to "7-cross of DOOM: Sam's POV"
1. Chapter 1

Hello again! This story is a Prequel to "7-cross of DOOM: Sam's POV" I'm co-authoring it with Genuka.

Hope you like it.

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I was sitting at home, watching yet another episode of Dora the Explorer with my little sister, Hannah, when the idea came to me.

"You stay here, Hannah, I have something I have to do," I said to the 7-year-old, who was zoned out on the TV.

"'Kay," she said mindlessly.

I quickly made my way to my room, which I had to share with Hannah. It wasn't too bad, considering I had to share my "Struggling Student/Writer/Artist" style with the "Pink Princess" theme on Hannah's side of the room. Not to mention the fact that Hannah hadn't yet learned the organization skills vital to real life. I'm not saying that my side of the room was completely without clutter, but DANG! I'm _still_ afraid to walk through her side to use our bathroom! Who knows what's hidden in there? The Fountain of Youth could be hidden in her closet, for all I care! It's not worth breaking your neck on your way in!

Anyway, I carefully navigated through her mess to find safe harbor on my bed. I snatched a pencil from the cup on the windowsill and my notebook from the table at the foot of my bed.

"Doctor meet doctor meet Holmes," I said to myself, as I titled the page, with a mischievous smirk on my face.

*******

Except for the sound of the engines, the TARDIS was quiet as the Doctor piloted it through the time vortex to his next destination; someplace where he could try to think about where he could go after that.

Slowly the engines whined as it came to a halt on the beaches of The Ghost Island on Meridian IV, during the Time of Peace, just after the War of the Malidecs.

"Now what?" the Doctor asked himself. "Barcelona? Nah, not the same, I promised Rose I'd take her there. Maybe… Nope, been there a few dozen times, literally. Been to the moon. Almost crashed into a living sun. Chased ghosts with Charles Dickens. I fought witches with William Shakespeare. Almost got shoved out into lethal radiation by a bunch of frightened passengers on Midnight. Where do I go from here?"

He leaned back on the console, when suddenly red lights began to flash and the alarm began to blare as the TARDIS detected an intruder.

"Oh, now what?!" the Doctor yelled as he quickly turned to the computer screen and started to bang on a few keys to figure out what was going on. The alarm stopped, the flashing lights turned off, and the Doctor let out a sigh of relief. "There, that should be it now. But just in case." He started to tap the keys again as he began to search the area for any would-be intruders.

"Yes! I made it!" a voice, with a slight Oklahoman accent, exclaimed victoriously from somewhere deep inside the TARDIS, making the Doctor jump. "Doctor? Oh, dangit, I missed! This isn't the console room." Footsteps were heard coming closer, and then a girl came through the doorway. "Ah, much better. Oh, there you are! Boosting security, huh? Good thing, 'cause I think that was a bit too easy."

The girl was tall, average build, had shoulder-length, layered, auburn curls with copper highlights, and fair skin. She wore a pair of old blue jeans, green T-shirt, a grey Duster jacket with a brown collar, and a pair of green converse Chuck Taylors.

"How did you get in here?" the Doctor demanded. "What do you think you're doing?"

The girl gave him a big smile as she reached into her right pocket. Her eyes widened and her smile faded. She reached into her left pocket, and panic struck her face.

"Excuse me," she said. "I'll be right back."

She snapped her fingers and she was gone.

"What!" the Doctor exclaimed.

The Doctor walked over to where the girl had been standing. He knelt down to feel the floor, to look closely at it, and even to smell where she left.

"That's… odd," the Doctor said as he walked back to the console, keeping his eyes on the spot where she left. "No trace whatsoever."

Just as suddenly as she left, the girl was back, and the intruder alarm blared again.

"You really should invest in a better security system," the girl said, now holding a steaming cup of instant ramen noodles in one hand and chopsticks in the other. "It's too easy for someone like me to just pop in whenever she wants." She stirred the noodles around with the chopsticks and scooped a bite of it in her mouth.

"What do you want?" the Doctor said after he turned off the alarm.

"I'm Sam," the girl said with a full mouth. She swallowed and walked over to the old car seat that served as a Captain's Chair. "I'm working on a project for my English class. I need to write an essay comparing two characters. One of the characters has to be from classic literature, the other has to be from contemporary literature or TV. You're going to help me." She took another bite of noodles.

"Why would I do that?" the Doctor asked. "You teleport into my TARDIS with a click of your fingers, and you expect me to write some essay for you?"

"No, no," Sam said, "I don't expect you to write it for me, I just think that you could help me gather what I need so I can get started." She tilted the ramen cup towards him. "Want some? They're good."

"No, thank you. If you can get into a TARDIS with all shields up, I think you can write one comparative essay without my help."

"So you won't help me?" She took the last bite of noodles, shifting her gaze to the near empty cup in her hands.

"Not with that, maybe if you find yourself in a situation that involves the abduction, destruction, or conquering of a planet, but not with some silly school assignment."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Sam peered into the broth still in the cup. "You sure you won't change you're mind?"

"Absolutely."

"Fine." she quickly splashed the broth onto the controls making it spark and smoke.

"What are you doing?!"

"Just ensuring that you stay here while I'm gone."

Then, with a snap of her fingers and a quick smirk, Sam was gone again.

The Doctor cursed in a strange Martian dialect as he quickly made his way under the floor to get to repairs.

"Fanfiction writers," the Doctor complained over the sound of his sonic screwdriver. "They just think they can come in and change things around as they wish. Now I've got one that wants me to help her write an essay for school. What does she need my help for anyway? I've got places to go, people to save. It's not like I could just grab these two characters of hers out of the book and…" The sound of the sonic screwdriver suddenly stopped. "She's not… No…! She can't…" The Doctor's head suddenly appeared from under the floor. "Not good."

Suddenly a loud pop and a puff of smoke came from where Sam had disappeared.

"Ah, here we are, make yourself comfortable, don't touch anything, I'll be right back," Sam coughed out before snapping her fingers and disappearing again.

"Well, that's just great," a male voice said, clearly American. "How am I gonna explain this? 'Why, hello, Cuddy. I know I was scheduled for clinic duty today, but I was abducted by some girl who beamed me up to her spaceship then left without another word.'"

The Doctor climbed back up to stand right behind the figure that produced the voice.

"Hello," the Doctor said.

The man turned around and the Doctor could see his features better. The man was tall, maybe a hair taller than the Doctor. He had a sort of sharp face and sloping forehead. His somewhat bushy eyebrows seemed to try to hide his ice-blue eyes. His chin was shaded darkly with a short mustache and goatee, which was the same brunette color as the hair on top of his head. He wore a suit, but it wasn't quite buttoned up the whole way, like he had only just gotten dressed. In his right hand was a black cane with flame decals on the bottom, which bore most of his weight. He seemed to also carry a sort of misery about him.

At the same time, the man seemed to be looking over the Doctor's features.

"I'm…" the man began, but was interrupted with another loud pop as Sam appeared again with another abductee. This one was a hair or two shorter than the Doctor and wore distinctive Victorian attire: shirt, waistcoat, trousers, overcoat, and patent leather shoes. He had a prominent, stubborn chin and a hawk-like nose. His eyes were piercing, intelligent, and, above all, curious. He was lanky, but still a bit intimidating.

"Here we are," Sam said. "Well, Doctor, I think I'll leave you to it. I'll be back after a while to check on your progress." She made a slow comprehensive sweep over the scene before her, as if she were examining a piece of art that she had just finished. "Alright, Doctor, Dr. House, Mr. Holmes, see you later!"

With that she snapped her fingers and she was gone again.

"What the hell was that about?" Dr. Gregory House asked in his Pennsylvanian accent.

"I can assure you, I have no idea," Mr. Sherlock Holmes said, "but whatever it is, one thing is most clear."

"And what's that?" House asked, reaching into his pocket and popping a few vicodin pills into his mouth.

"We are trapped here," Holmes said.

"Yep," the Doctor replied. "Welcome to my ship, it's down for repairs right now, so we can't go anywhere." He inspected the sight of the two of them together. "Two of the greatest human minds, stuck in my TARDIS. Should be fun."

He quickly went back to repairs. House and Holmes looked at each other for a few moments, then followed the Doctor below the floor.

"So who was that? Your girlfriend? She seems a bit young for you," House as he prodded the Doctor with his cane.

"I have no clue who she is," the Doctor answered over the sound of the sonic screwdriver, "and no she's not my girlfriend."

"But you have had girls here around her age," Holmes chimed with an air of arrogance.

The Doctor looked them straight in the face and pointed the screwdriver at them to make his point.

"I will not be psycho-analyzed by two humans right now," the Doctor warned, "I have to clear out 8 oz. of ramen broth out of very complicated circuitry with nothing but a sonic screwdriver. So if you don't mind, lay off!"

"Someone's got a bee in his shorts," House commented as he and Holmes made their way back up.

_Two of the greatest human minds indeed_, the Doctor thought as he continued.

"So, you must be Sherlock Holmes, then," House said. "Your shorter than I expected."

"I take it your Dr. House, then?" Holmes asked.

"Yep," House said as he leaned on the control panel.

Suddenly, the panel sparked and hissed, and the Doctor yelled Martian obscenities.

"DON'T TOUCH THE CONSOLE, PLEASE!" the Doctor yelled.

"Cranky," House said under his breath. "He makes _me _look like the patron saint of patience."

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that language you just spoke," Holmes called down to the Doctor. "It doesn't sound at all like those of Earth. And your use of the word 'human' is most intriguing. I take it that you are not of our world?"

The Doctor didn't answer, but no reply spoke more than if he had confirmed or denied Holmes' observation.

"So is that girl human?" House asked.

Again, the Doctor didn't reply.

"He doesn't know," Holmes said. "She's as much a mystery to him as to you or me. And personally, I find it strange that she would choose the three of us to hold as captives."

"You are two of the greatest minds in English literature and television," the Doctor said, "and she's a fanfiction writer."

"A what?" House and Holmes asked simultaneously.

"A writer of borrowed ideas," the Doctor said. "A fanfiction writer writes stories based on characters, plots, or settings created by noted authors, playwrights, and producers. This one seems to have the power to teleport into stories and take characters with her. She told me she's brought us together so we can help her write a comparative essay for an English assignment."

House and Holmes looked at each other and started to laugh.

_We're going to be stuck here for a very long time if this keeps up,_ the Doctor thought as he went back to repairs.

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A/N: I'm having a bad case of writers' block right now, so ideas are very much appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own Doctor Who, the Sherlock Holmes novels and short stories, or House MD**

House leaned on the railing surrounding the TARDIS's console and twirled his cane in his hand as he watched Holmes stare off into the distance and heard the Doctor continue to try to fix his ship with some device that made whirring whistling sounds, which the Doctor had called a "sonic screwdriver." It sounded like a bad innuendo to him, but it didn't matter that much. All he really cared about was what the hell was on the other side of that doorway. The one with the windows probably led outside, but the other one, the one on the other end of the room, was a complete mystery.

Holmes continued to stare at a distant spot on the wall; he was most likely trying to figure out more about their host. House didn't really care that much, he figured he was probably on a vicodin high.

Then, a thought came to him. If he was high right now, he didn't want to just sit around and watch things happen; he wanted to explore it. So, slowly he walked, or rather limped, over to Holmes.

"I wonder where that door leads?" House whispered to Holmes, pointing his cane to the dark corridor opposite the exit door.

"Probably to other parts of the ship," Holmes replied, still staring into space, barely glancing toward where the cane was pointing.

"Aren't you a little bit curious, Holmes?" House goaded.

"Not in the least," Holmes lied, House knew he was lying by the way he tried not to look.

"Oh, the Doctor won't notice we've gone," House teased. "He's too busy with those repairs of his to notice us being missing for a few seconds. Come on."

House slowly made his way to the doorway, pausing only to check that the Doctor _was_, in fact, too busy to notice. Holmes followed without a moment of indiscretion. The sight of the two of them could only be compared to that of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. That is, Tom with a cane and Huck with a British accent, and at least twenty-five years after Mark Twain published his book.

Almost silently, they explored where the corridor would take them while the Doctor worked. The Doctor, still muttering to himself in that strange Martian dialect over the sound of his sonic screwdriver, didn't see their leaving; but he did start to notice their silence, after a while.

The Doctor looked up from his work; House had moved from his perch. The Doctor decided to take a break, for now, and began to climb back up. Then he noticed that Holmes too was away from the last place he had seen him. As soon as he could see the rest of the room, their absence really hit him.

"Oh don't tell me they've gone exploring," the Doctor exclaimed as he ran down the corridor that the twosome had traveled before him.

Slowly I tried to rub the tension headache away from my forehead.

It had been, at least, two days since I last checked on my little experiment and I couldn't find the right time to drop out of sight for a while.

"So how's that story coming? Your last one did so well!" April's message read.

I had reread it for the fifth time, but I was still unsure of how I was going to answer.

It was getting too late for me to think straight, and I really needed my brainpower for school.

I must have dozed off then, because I was now inside the BOK center, in downtown Tulsa. Everyone was dressed like some sort of alien or warrior. I knew I was there for a reason, I knew that something had gone wrong. I knew that I could find help here. Then I saw April. It was then that I considered that this moment was a dream, because how was she standing right there with various Star Trek characters behind her.

"Hello, Sam," April said.

Then I woke up with my face on the keyboard, close to drooling. I was glad no one was awake to see that, Mom wouldn't have let me get on the computer at night again.

I logged off of the computer and slowly made my way to bed.

The TARDIS console room was silent, with exception for the occasional spark from the scolded circuitry. House, followed closely by Holmes, quickly made his way back in with a smirk on his face.

"So she's not your girlfriend, huh?" House teased. "Then how come you have a room set out just for her?"

"It's none of your business who that room is for," the Doctor said defensively as he followed behind. "And what were you two doing back there anyway?"

"We were getting quite bored," Holmes explained.

"Either you're a cross-dressing gigolo or you've got a girl," House continued, "and you don't have the face for a drag-queen."

"Would you lay off for one moment?" the Doctor asked. "All I know is that that girl is a fanfiction writer, that's all! She's not my girlfriend, I don't have a girlfriend, and there probably won't be a girlfriend for a long, long time. Now will you please just sit quietly like a good little boy while I try to fix my ship so I can try to send you two back home?"

"Who are you calling a little boy?" House puffed up. "Look who's talking; I'm at least twice your age."

"I'm not human, remember?" The Doctor glared at House with such a seriousness that even the scrappiest of terriers would have stood down.

"How old are you, then?" Holmes asked, breaking the tension between the two.

"943 years old," the Doctor said.

"You look good," House said after a moment of awed silence.

The Doctor looked to the console, which, surprisingly, had stopped sparking. He quickly went to the computer screen. Everything seemed to be close to normal now. He could take readings, monitor security, run simulations, but he couldn't take off. He thought he'd try something – but then his stomach growled.

"I'm heading to the kitchen, you two want something?" the Doctor said cheerfully as he made his way back to the dark corridor. "Maybe some tea?"

House made a disgusted face and said, "No, coffee."

Holmes replied, "Yes, please."

"Coffee and tea, 'right, I'll make some sandwiches too, 'cause I'm starved!" the Doctor said as he headed on.

"What are the chances of him coming back?" House asked, once he knew the Doctor was out of hear-shot.

"If I understand the Doctor's meaning of 'I didn't lose it, I just can't find it,' I'd say slim to none," Holmes said, "but it is his ship, and I'm sure he's used the kitchen enough times to know the way."

House didn't really feel comfortable with his unsure tone, but, sure enough, here came the Doctor with a silver tray. On it were a silver teapot, sandwiches on a silver platter, three silver cups, and a glass coffeepot.

"I'm sorry to say I don't have any milk or sugar," the Doctor said.

"Oh that's alright, old chap," Holmes said, pouring for himself a cup of tea.

House took his cup of coffee and happily let the two Brits jabber on and on about whatever they were going to jabber about. As he drank his coffee, he stared at the TARDIS controls and tried to sort out how the Doctor was going to get them out of here, how they had gotten there in the beginning, how he was going to get out of doing his clinic duty. Then he realized something that could only come to a person that was trapped in a spaceship with a cup of coffee in hand. He was free of Cuddy, at last he didn't have to do clinic duty, he didn't have to deal with his incompetent team, he didn't have to deal with idiots that thought that their seasonal allergies were pneumonia or strep throat or asthma. He didn't have to, but as he started to imagine life without the challenge, he knew he'd get bored. For once he had to admit it; Wilson was right. Wilson. Without Wilson to mess with and test and to share his discoveries with, he'd be pretty lonely. So many times he'd been a severe jerk to Wilson, but could he possibly have to somehow do without him?

House glanced over to Holmes; he too was staring at the TARDIS with that thoughtful stare. Perhaps, he too was thinking of his life on Baker Street, about Mrs. Hudson, about Watson. Yes, he had read a couple of Sherlock Holmes mysteries, but only out of boredom. After a while, though, he did notice a few parallels between himself and Holmes. They both had a companion, they both had a nagging woman around that ran things, and now that he really thought about it, they both had similar names. House, Holmes. Watson, Wilson. Almost identical.

Freaky.

Suddenly, as he examined the switches on the console, the answer came to him.

"That girl, the fanfiction writer that can put herself in other stories," House said, breaking the awkward silence, "it works both ways, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean?" Homes asked.

"If she can make herself teleport to this spot," House said, limping to the spot where Sam had last been seen, "then can't we…"

"Reverse the polarity!" the Doctor exclaimed, moving quickly to the TARDIS computer. "Let's see if it will work." He tapped on the keys like the world's fastest secretary. Just tackata-tackata-tackata, until finally he announced, "Eureka! It can be done! At the precise moment that she first appeared in the TARDIS, there was a slight polar shift: 23.44 degrees axial shift for a brief second, allowing for a more precise point of entry. Then, when she appeared in this room: 10.4532497 degrees axial shift to account for the tilt of both planets. She must have some sort of advanced cognitive abilities in order to calculate such a precise measurement, either that or a computer passed the standards of her time."

"Or she was just lucky," House suggested.

"Either way," the Doctor continued, "if we can create this momentary axial shift, we should be able to pull her from where she is now, to where we are now."

With that, the Doctor got to work on the problem.

"Did you catch that?" House asked Holmes.

"Not a bit," he replied.

"Good, I'm not the only one," House sighed.

I was happy when I saw all my best friends in one room together. It was Halloween, and my masquerade party was going off without a hitch. This fact made me a bit paranoid. There was always something that goes wrong when it comes to me having fun. I checked the food myself, everything tasted good. I checked on my guests, they were all having a good time. I checked the bathroom, we had plenty of toilet paper and no one seemed to have made any mess (shock!). Everyone I invited got to the house without a problem. I was just waiting for some little thing to happen; a glass to break, a drink to be spilt, anything that could make my bad-luck quota today.

Then, just as I was beginning to forget my worries and go with the flow, I began to feel light-headed, I began to get tunnel vision, and I watched as I slowly, helplessly, fell to the floor.

"Just about got her," the Doctor said as he tapped away at the keyboard, with House and Holmes watching anxiously over his shoulders.

Then, suddenly, a burst of light, an eruption of smoke, and an explosion that sounded like a cannon was blasted right in front of their ears. Slowly the smoke cleared to reveal Sam, wearing a cute black dress, black high-heels, and a dark blue mask, scowling at the three of them from her seat on the floor.

"You idiots!" she screamed, getting one of her heels ready to become a projectile.

"Hit the deck!" the Doctor yelled as the heel whizzed past his head.

She screamed something in an elegant language as she launched her other heel at the Doctor. This one grazed the top of his head.

"Of all the idiotic fools in the universe, I had to choose you." She screamed again, getting on her feet and walking, painfully on the metal grate floor, toward the Doctor. "I was in front of at least seven people when you pulled that stunt. Do you have any idea what a mess you've left for me to clean up? While I'm here, my body is in a coma! I'm in a COMA thanks to your idiotic attempt to bring me here!"

"You said my name," the Doctor said, like a deer in the headlights.

"What?" Sam asked, sharing that deer-in-the-headlights look very well.

"Just now, you said my name," the Doctor said again, "my given name. How do you know my name?"

"I said your name? What did I say? I don't know what I said! I was mad, angry! I say lots of stuff when I'm angry! What did I say?"

"You don't know that you spoke the Forgotten language, the dead language that was spoken before the beginning of everything?"

"Is that what I was speaking?" Sam instinctively moved her hands to cover her mouth. "Was I really speaking a dead language?"

"Not just dead, lost,"

"Like Latin?"

"No, Latin is new in comparison with what you just spoke. In its time it was the only language spoken. Then, when the last of the race that spoke it died, he breathed life into the universe and spoke time into existence. That language has an unspeakable amount of power to it. With the right phrase you could stop the flow of time altogether, or even wipe everything away, like a clean slate."

"No, it can't be. I'm just a kid. I can't be you, not in real life. No, you're lying. You're trying to get back at me for pouring ramen broth on the console. You're puling my leg. I don't believe you."

Sam looked deeply into the Doctor's eyes, looking for a shred of evidence to prove her theory. There was nothing but the look of absolute amazement.

She collapsed to the floor, hands covering her face, trying to hold back her fearful tears and sobs. Sam didn't want to have this shoved upon her. She didn't want to speak an extinct language. She just wanted to go back to her life, the way it should be, the way it would have been if the Doctor had not recognized her nonsense, the way it would have been if she hadn't done this in the first place. As she sobbed she tried not to let words come out, for fear that they would make her disappear. With no knowledge of what her nonsense words meant and the power that they had, she couldn't trust herself to speak anymore. She couldn't lead a normal life anymore. All her dreams were thrown out the window, all because she spoke a powerful language and didn't know it.

"It's okay," the Doctor said, placing his arms around her shoulders. "You're alright. It's going to be alright." Sam wanted to answer, but feared what her answer would create, or destroy. "Say something."

Sam shook her head violently, trying desperately to suppress the words that tried to escape her mouth.

"It's alright, just make sure you know what you're going to say before you say it."

She tried to project her feeling of worry to him.

"Just say it exactly as you think it."

She took her hands from her mouth and said, "I want to go home. I don't want to be able to speak this language. I wish I never did this."

Sam put her hands on her mouth again. Yes, she spoke in English, but she said more than she meant to.

"That's alright," the Doctor said.

"Excuse me," House interjected, "I hate to interrupt this little 'Journey to Self-Discovery' session, but there's a light on the controls that's blinking... mauve, I think... Is that good or bad?"

Sorry, readers, trying to get to work on the next chapter, but I currently do not have a working computer to type it up. Slow progress, like snail-pace progress. Will get something up for you ASAP.


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